


Set me free

by Lord_Risley



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, Lots of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Risley/pseuds/Lord_Risley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is falling apart. Mycroft sneaks Sherlock back to London but will it be too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set me free

"It's been nearly two years John"  
"I know"  
"Two years..."  
"I said I know"  
"I think it's time you started to...live again"  
"No"  
"No?"  
"What do I have Mycroft? Tell me. Go on. Tell me what I have. What reason do I have to wake up? What reason do I have to get dressed? To make breakfast? To go outside? What? What is there for me anymore?"

***************************

 

Two years ago to the day Sherlock had fallen to his death. John had watched. He had heard and seen it all. He had failed to stop it. When Sherlock died, John had died too. He had lost his reason for everything and he had stopped living and just started to exist, barely. He had known that Mycroft was helping in small unobtrusive ways but he was never the one to make contact. Mycroft would come to Baker Street once a month, John would answer his questions in one word answers until Mycroft left. Mrs Hudson never mentioned the rent after the first month and so John had known Mycroft was paying it. Between Him and Mrs Hudson there were always a basic amount of food in the house and the electric and gas stayed on. If he thought about it he was grateful but he could never bring himself to say anything to either of them. He just wanted to be left alone, left alone to die.

He had lost weight over the years and looked thin, pale and sallow. His clothes, which were frequently unwashed, hung off his smaller body. He had been sat in his armchair for the past two hours. He had not moved. He sat staring at Sherlock's chair. The chair had been untouched since Sherlock's death. John could not bring himself to touch it even. He left it how it was. Sometimes he'd close his eyes and after a while he would be able to see Sherlock sat there. He would be wearing his dressing gown with his hands steepled and would have the look on his face that said he was deep in thought. When John opened his eyes he was always alone, the chair was empty and there was just the lonely silence. 

 

****************************

"It's time for you to come back Sherlock. I have never understood your fascination with him but John Watson is falling apart. I did not think it possible but he's getting worse"  
Sherlock's head snapped up. "What do you mean getting worse? You said he was coping, that he was alright"  
"He is coping...barely" Mycroft sighed. "But if you do care, then now is the time Sherlock. You do not need to make a public announcement, we could organise a meeting and get you back out again without anyone knowing but it needs to be now"  
"Is it that bad" There was a note of pain to Sherlock's voice that Mycroft had never heard before and it worried him.  
"Now Sherlock"  
"Organise it" Sherlock got up and stalked to the door. As he went through it Mycroft heard a small quiet whisper from Sherlock. "Please..."

 

*****************************

"Do you really think it's a good idea for me to see John at Baker Street Mycroft?" They were sat outside in a dark saloon car with blacked out windows.  
"John is refusing to take my calls at the moment and due to the urgent nature of the situation I thought it best to just come here. Nobody will see you Sherlock, You're dead remember."  
Sherlock took a calming breath before reaching for the door handle. He turned and looked back at Mycroft. "Come with me?"  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock but said nothing. Instead he got quickly from the car and stood waiting at the door to 221B. Sherlock had never been so grateful to his brother as he was at that moment for the small but important gesture. He went slowly to the door and waited as Mycroft got his keys out and unlocked the door. The corridor was exactly as Sherlock remembered. Nothing had changed, it even smelt the same. He took a small moment to enjoy the familiar surroundings before starting up the stairs after his brother. Again Mycroft used his own keys to open the flat door before standing back and gesturing Sherlock forward. "I'll wait out here for you." Sherlock stepped past him and into the flat. He hadn't asked but he assumed John must be in. He didn't know what to say to do. He had planned several different scenarios in his head that all ended with himself getting punched or worse by John but he had thought it may help the other man to move past his anger. He steeled himself, took a breath and burst into the living room. "John I...." The words died in his mouth and it felt as if all breath had left his body. He fell forward and landed on his knees on the carpet and stared. He could not stop staring and it was only when Mycroft spoke that the spell was broken. 

***********************************

John had sat in his chair and closed his eyes. He waited and he waited but Sherlock would not appear. There was no dressing gown, no steepled hands and no look of concentration. He opened his eyes and blinked. He tried again and again but Sherlock would not appear. He opened his eyes and felt the tears of frustration running down his face. No, Not this please. It was all he had, all he had left. He tried again and again until he was sobbing uncontrollably. He beat his fists against his temples, he swore but nothing changed. He was alone. "He's gone and I'm alone" It was as if he was acknowledging the truth for the first time. Johns phone buzzed and he ignored it. It had been going off all morning. It would only be Mycroft. Nobody else rang him anymore. He pressed the off switch on the phone before getting up. His head felt clear and his heart lighter than I had in two years. He knew what he had to do. 

************************************

Mycroft entered the living room, he looked around quickly and sighed. He put his hand on his brothers shoulder "Come away Sherlock there's nothing to be done. We need to go...Now Sherlock!"

 

The body of John Watson was found an hour later. The police had received an anonymous call. The desk sergeant had passed the call to DI Lestrade knowing he would want to be informed. Lestarde had not heard from John Watson in over a year. At first he had tried to call but when John had stopped answering he had stopped trying. Now, taking the call, he felt the guilt build up inside him again and knew he should be the one to go check out the call. 

Mrs Hudson had let Lestrade in and greeted him warmly. She had only been in a few minutes herself and returned to her own flat to unpack her shopping. He went upstairs and knocked gently at the door. "John. John it's Greg. Can you let me in? It's important." Silence was all that greeted him. Lestrade knocked again....nothing. He sighed deeply and went back to Mrs Hudson who agreed to le him in.  
"I've not seen him in over a week dear. I do worry" She said as she fumbled through a large bunch of keys. "It'll do him good to have some company. Could you get him to eat something while you're there. If he gets any thinner he'll look like Sh...." She didn't finish the sentence but swung the door open.

"Oh God" was all Lestrade said. He too collapsed to the floor and looked at the man he felt he'd failed.

 

**************************************

John Watson had walked to his room. He had carefully taken out his gun before cleaning and loading it. He Had dressed himself in his favourite shirt and put the one small photograph of Sherlock that he had in his breast pocket. It was a newspaper clipping of him in that ridiculous hat. He smiled to himself and patted his pocket. He walked into the living room and stood before Sherlock's chair. It had been untouched for this long but it felt right. He sat down slowly and gently. He ran his hand along the arm of the chair and tears threatened him again. He very calmly took his gun and pressed it gently to his right temple. John whispered "I love you Sherlock" before pulling the trigger. It was the first and last peace he had felt for two years.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from! I had a little idea about alternate happening after The Reichenbach fall and this was one idea. I may expand it a bit later. It's only a first try so please leave comments as it's really helpful. Thanks :) 
> 
> Also I am looking for someone to do an art piece to go with it. Something simple, John in Sherlock's chair. Any offers??


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